


Drowning

by Hamiltrash_Willow



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Sadness, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamiltrash_Willow/pseuds/Hamiltrash_Willow
Summary: "James stared blankly down at the clean, unsullied sheets of paper in front of him. His gaze was fixated on the pristine pages in front of him, as the cleanliness of these pages was, in fact, the very source of his predicament.He was drowning."





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Self-harm, suicide.  
> Seriously guys, if this'll trigger you, please don't read it! Your health and safety comes first.

James stared blankly down at the clean, unsullied sheets of paper in front of him. His gaze was fixated on the pristine pages in front of him, as the cleanliness of these pages was, in fact, the very source of his predicament.  
He was drowning.  
Drowning in words, drowning in the empty space enveloping him.  
Drowning in work and thought and absolute loneliness.

No, that wasn’t right.  
He was overreacting.  
Was he overreacting?  
Whether he was overreacting or not didn’t matter, though.  
What mattered was the fact of the matter;  
He was alone and facing an entire essay, once again; tired, tired of his studies, tired of his loneliness and li-  
No, that wasn’t right.  
He had Thomas, he couldn’t be tired of life.  
Could he?  
No, with Thomas in it, he loved life.  
No, that wasn’t right.  
He hated life.  
Wait, that wasn’t quite right either.  
Life was fine. Even the College of New Jersey was fine.  
Thomas was amazing.  
He just hated himself.  
Could Thomas save him from this?  
No, that was selfish, wasn’t it?  
God, he was just so selfish.  
The world would be better off without him anyways.  
Thomas was probably only with him out of pity.  
No, that wasn’t right.  
Thomas loved him… right?  
Right?

James was drowning.  
Drowning in memories of the love and sole light of his life smiling his cheeky grin, spoonfeeding James, comforting James when he was sick, smirking as if he was omniscient, being kind and gentle, wrapping James up in a warm hug, so warm that everything else melted away and he was just safe…  
He was nothing but a burden to this perfect man, wasn’t he?  
Even at that very moment, a part of him was desperately wishing for Thomas to scoop him up and tell him that everything was okay, that he was right there.  
But he wasn’t.  
And James was so, so selfish for wishing he was, wasn’t he?  
He just wanted everyone to be happy.  
Scratch that. He wanted Thomas to be happy- happy and free of the burden that was James.  
Always sick. Always frail. Always selfish. Always there somehow, like a gnat buzzing around his head.  
Yes, that was right.  
That’s all he was.  
Always sick. Always frail. Always selfish. Always irritatingly there.  
The blade hidden in his desk drawer was in his hand.  
A sudden shock of cold.  
A searing heat.  
James was drowning.

James stared blankly down at the scrawled-upon, sullied sheets of paper in front of him.  
He stared with a glass at his side, colored a milky white with pills still dissolving in it.  
Yes, that was right.  
He didn’t deserve to live.  
The pills were dissolved.  
Yes, that was right.  
Always sick. Always frail. Always selfish. Always there somehow, like a gnat.  
That’s all he was.  
And the liquid was gone from the cup.  
James closed his eyes and waited for sleep, for the welcome embrace of nothing.  
Sleep came.  
And then he woke up.  
He woke up to acid burning in his stomach and hallucinations plaguing his vision and pain and pain and so much and _he didn’t want to die_ and he was clawing out at the floor and there was vomit everywhere and _it hurt please let it end- no he didn’t want to die-_  
And it ended.  
Yes, that was right.  
Always sick. Always frail. Always selfish. Eternally gone.

It was hours later when Thomas came home; home, to a nightmarish scene of blood, vomit, cold, and silence.  
He tentatively walked up to James- no, a shell of James- and shook him. Ever-so-gently. Disbelievingly. And then he shook him again. Harder. Harder, harder, numb shock morphing into pure, unadulterated terror that constricted his chest and stopped his breathing.  
He whispered James’ name into the still air, broken voice piercing the silence.  
He finally recovered himself just enough to call 911, sobbing into the phone about his boyfriend, his boyfriend being unresponsive, just barely managing to get out his address.  
He begged James to wake up.  
He pleaded as hard as he could to all the gods he knew.

Thomas was drowning.  
Drowning in memories of the sole light and love of his life smiling his shy smile, being spoonfed, cocooned in sheets and somehow adorable even being sick, manipulating his enemies near-perfectly as if omniscient, being kind and gentle, wrapping his arms around Thomas in a warm hug, so warm that everything else melted away and he was just safe…  
And he was cold now. Cold and chilling and stiff.  
For the first time, Thomas thought James was revolting.  
No, that wasn’t right.  
This wasn’t James at all.  
This was just a likeness of James..  
a likeness which didn’t even resemble him.  
Where was the spark in his eyes?  
Where were the mannerisms, the emotions and warmth that exuded from his even at his worst?  
No, this wasn’t James.  
James was always adorably sick. Always frail and precious. Always so selfless. Always there somehow, a comforting presence which made everything okay.  
Yes, that was right.  
His James had gone.  
And all that was left was a shell and the hot tears streaming down Thomas’ face as he screamed his name.  
Thomas was drowning.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe! If you're having thoughts of suicide or self-harm, never, ever be afraid to tell someone.
> 
> On a more cheerful note, I have some less angsty (aka fluffy, aka sinful) stuff planned (and partly written), so I'll have that up sometime in the (hopefully) near future!


End file.
